That Someday I Will Show Your Same Courage
by wbss21
Summary: Thor and Loki go venturing to a remote cave system in search of an ancient artifact. But when danger finds them there, and both brother's find themselves badly injured, it will take all they have to survive. Pre-Thor
1. Chapter 1

**That Someday I Will Show Your Same Courage**

**Chapter 1: **

"Do you remember a time before, brother?"

Loki looks up from where he is tying their horse's reins to the low hung branch of a tree. He smiles thinly at his brother, stood some fifteen paces away, where he is preparing the stakes to hold down their tent for the night.

"What a curious thing to ask me Thor." He replies, his voice soft but carrying well to the other god, and Thor does nothing to question the strangeness of it.

Loki is strangeness defined, he thinks. His name should mean strangeness, if it does not already inspire such thoughts in the minds of men and gods alike.

And in any case, he reasons further, magic.

Loki is also magic, and such oddities as his voice carrying as a shout when spoken a whisper should hardly ever come into question.

The god of trickery, lies and chaos cocks his head in thought, and then replies further…

"What inspires the inquiry?"

Thor smiles in return, banging a stake fully into the ground with one, smooth stroke of his hammer.

"Your hair Loki." He answers. "You wear it red today. And was not the Loki of our legends possessed of hair like flame?"

Indeed, where his brother's hair is usually dark of shade, today he wears it the color of fire, curled loosely where normally it hangs straight and long. His ears, too, have taken up pointed ends, his pale green eyes flashing a gem red clear round the rims of the irises.

Loki's smile stretches to a grin, and there is something of mischief and ancient time in his eyes.

Thor has noticed this before.

Though he is the elder of the two, and Loki is possessed of beautiful youth in his features, his eyes have always shown an oldness very well beyond his years.

It is not the first Thor has felt, against all reason, somehow the younger here.

There is something in his little brother which moves him to, at times, feel very childish indeed.

"Ah." Loki at last answers, continuing with his eyes on the reins as he ties them off. "But then would not Odin be my brother by vow, and not my father? And too would I not be old as Odin All-Father, and one of the three to walk the shores of existence when they were new?"

Thor laughs heartily at this.

"I sometimes wonder if you haven't Loki, your knowledge seems so broad and far reaching."

Loki begins towards him them, grinning still.

"I see you are being generous today brother. You would find yourself surprised with what you can learn simply by reading a book now and again."

"And you are sly as ever with your insults Loki." Thor chuckles back. "Though one must admit your grasp of obscure and dusty tomes exceeds that of any regular scholar. You undermine your own intellect in suggesting I could be as you were I simply to _read _more." Thor waves a dismissive hand. "What use have I for books and scrolls anyhow?"

The smile melts from Loki's features at that, and he shakes his head reprovingly.

"None are above the pursuit of knowledge Thor." He says, voice at once stern and without mirth. "One should never stop or balk at the notion of learning."

"Ah, and there he is. My too serious little brother!" Thor laughs, moving swiftly as he suddenly throws his arms around Loki and wrestles him into a headlock, mussing his hair vigorously.

Loki sputters angrily, trying vainly to break free of Thor's hold.

"Thor!" He cries, all smooth sureness gone, and like that, their roles are reversed, Thor again the elder brother, again the leader. "You insufferable oaf, let me go!"

With a bellowing laugh, the Thunder god does, his mirth only increasing at the way Loki fumes, stepping back and making a show of straightening out his now rumpled clothes and hair.

When he seems satisfied with his appearance, the Trickster glares at him, frown deep set along his face.

"Oh, it isn't that funny Thor!" He snaps, though there isn't any real anger in the tone, just a slight annoyance.

"It is, Loki!" Thor laughs in return. "You are, after all, so fastidious with your appearance. Even when we are questing!"

"Oh, feh!" Loki waves him off, crossing his arms over his thin chest and turning his face away.

"Oh, come now brother!" Thor implores, worried a moment he might have actually upset his at times over-sensitive sibling. "I only jest!"

Relief kindles in Thor's heart when he sees Loki turn back to him, a slight smirk across his lips.

"Indeed." Loki says, frustration gone out of his voice. "You're still an ass." He points then at Thor, nothing less than a threatening stance. "And you know very well what becomes of those who attempt to trade pranks with a prankster. As they call me the king of fools Thor, I'll soon enough make a fool out of you."

Thor smiles tightly at the remark, feeling a sudden and unpleasant lurch in his chest. Not for the threat. Loki is nothing if not mischief, the very notion being his domain absolute, the one who gave the gift of such to mankind itself. Only the most obtuse would find surprise in Loki's having played a trick on them, though when and of what nature those tricks would be was anyone's guess.

No, it was that Loki referred to himself as a fool. Thor could think of no being for whom such a title was more unfit. Loki was nobody's fool, and yet that was what most in the court called him, and Thor had even heard such mutterings swirling viciously about the commoners in the city. They thought of Loki as some sort of jester, it seemed, some sort of idiot to amuse and entertain them, and Thor was not so dense as to not realize that Loki had embraced the title as a means of defending against the pain of it.

It hurt his brother to hear such words, to be labeled a buffoon, especially given his level of astute intellect and scholarly endeavor. Those who called him fool possessed not even the smallest fraction of his learned knowledge and whip fast wit.

But Loki was unlike the other Aesir, in every way truly. And he more enjoyed fanciful things like dancing and singing and reading than he did the rigors of warrior combat and weapons training.

It wasn't to say that Loki was not a skilled warrior either. Thor knew of none better with a blade than his brother. And what Loki may have lacked in physical strength, he more than made up for in speed and agility. The Thunderer can remember more than a few times he and Loki had become entangled in wrestling matches, and despite being vastly superior in matched strength, Thor had rarely ever been able to keep the Trickster god pinned to the ground, so slippery and almost effervescent was he.

But then, Loki too was prone to sensitivity. At times even shy, doing well when speaking before an assembled crowd, but far less sure in his confidence in smaller social interactions.

He cried, at times often. Not great, heaving sobs. But tears were no strangers to his eyes, and they would slip silent down his face when they came. He was mercilessly mocked by the other gods for such frailty. So too was he derided for his sorcery. Many cried that such dark arts were meant only for women, and no, true man of the Aesir would debase himself by practicing such. Their own father, even, had looked upon Loki's magic with disapproving eyes and words.

Some even, though not to Loki's face, called him ager, and for that slight alone, Thor had smote his fair share of wretches. He never told Loki of those things though. He didn't want to upset a brother who, more and more these days, seemed less and less to smile.

Most troubling to Thor, perhaps, was the increasing inclination the other gods had to blame Loki whenever anything went awry. From small, inconsequential mishaps, to lately very serious and endangering accidents and bad decision making.

The Thunderer knew that such accusations came from Loki's domain as god of Mischief, and also because he served as Odin's chief advisor. But while Loki's tricks were frequent and for many often embarrassing, they had never been malicious in intent, only playful. Thor knew he would never, intentionally endanger anybody. And if the god's were not perfect beings, Thor knew also perhaps their greatest fault lay in their refusal to take responsibility for their own mistakes.

Attitudes in Asgard towards his brother had seemed to grow as late from cold dislike but grudging acceptance to sometimes outright and unkind hostility, and it sat ill with Thor. Worried at his brain like some disease.

He found himself more and more frequently fearing for Loki.

"You are no fool Loki." Thor tells him, all mirth gone from his own voice.

At that, Loki only smiles, small and forced.

"And you are a good brother Thor." He says.

Thor's mouth continues in its downward slant. He wants to say something more, something to reassure his brother, for he can hear in his voice he believes nothing of Thor's own words, believes them only to be spoken in pity.

But before the Thunder god can move again to speak, Loki has beaten him to it.

"Now," he begins, changing the subject and clapping his long, thin hands together. "Let us finish the task of pitching that tent, and then I'll go into the woods and catch us our dinner."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

"How close then do you think we are?"

Thor watches his brother over the now low burning flames of their fire pit. He has a book open in his lap, from which he's been quietly reading for the past short while.

The rabbit Loki managed to fell with an arrow and which they roasted over the pit has since been picked clean between them, and Thor smiles wonderingly at how his brother remains thin as a rail despite his appetite easily matching that of his own. Wonders also at Loki's incongruous ability to never appear piggish even when eating ravenously, seeming almost elegant in it even.

His brother glances up at him then, his eyes gleaming strangely in the firelight, aglow with the power of his seidr, before he looks off past Thor, into the dark distance beyond.

"It shouldn't take us more than another half day of travel, I should think." He finally says after a long moment. Looking back to Thor, he smiles. "Providing of course we don't run into bandits or marauders or any other such trouble."

"Ha!" Thor laughs, slapping his knee, and then palming the hilt of Mjolnir, hung as always at his waist. "As though any would dare to attack the son's of Odin."

"Tsk." Loki shakes his head. "It is precisely our rank which might encourage the like to try their hand at us." He says chidingly.

"Well they may try." Thor replies, losing none of his confidence. "One taste from the head of my hammer though, and they'll quickly lose their nerve."

"Mmm." Loki says. "Probable."

He turns then back to his book, quickly growing quiet again.

A few minutes more pass in the same silence. Loki seems content in it, but Thor does not know why, only tonight he is feeling restless and the quiet irritates him in a way it usually would not.

He sighs softly, playing absently with the tufts of grass at his booted feet, thick, calloused fingers brushing delicately over the blades, until finally he can barely stand it another minute.

"Spin us a yarn then, won't you brother?" He finally asks, the idea striking him with sudden inspiration.

Loki is the finest story teller in all of Asgard, and Thor can say so without reservation. He is renowned for it, as each morning, within the court, gather all the noblemen and women, all the palace workers and servants, and anyone else who manages to wrangle their way into the royal hall, all there just to listen as Loki gifts them with a tale. Each morning this happens, even those of Loki's fiercest detractors eager to watch him perform and listen to his most finely spun words, brought only more to life as he illustrates them with illusions, a parade of colors and delights for the eyes of those gathered.

As is Loki an unmatched champion of flyting. There isn't a soul Thor knows brave enough to try and trade insults with his brother.

There is nothing, Thor thinks, which he enjoys so much as listening to Loki speak. It has been thus since they were but boys.

Loki looks up at him again, gazing back curiously.

"And what sort of tale would my brother desire from me?" He asks, closing the book in his lap and placing it aside.

Thor smiles triumphantly, knowing then Loki will oblige him.

"You know what I like best Loki." He replies. "A tale of great adventure and glory!"

"Ah." Loki says, nodding. "Of course."

He appears then to think a moment, eyes rolling up and peering at the sky, long fingers tapping absently along his chin.

"Let me see if I have one you haven't yet heard."

"Lokiiii…" Thor whines petulantly.

Loki is a literal library of tales, he knows. He thinks his brother knows so many different ones, he'll likely never run out of new ones to tell. He is merely teasing.

And with that thought, Loki smiles softly at him.

"Ah ha!" He exclaims excitedly, as though just dawning on the perfect choice. "I have just the one." He announces.

Thor is silent then, and for a long time to follow, listening with rapt attention as Loki begins and moves through his story. At times, the yarn is told so engagingly and so well, Thor forgets where he is, or that he is listening to a spoken story at all, his brother's words are so vivid and fluid, his illusions only bringing them further to life. At times, it feels to Thor as though he is within the tale himself, living it himself.

It isn't until late into the night that Loki finishes, and though Thor has grown ready for sleep by then, never once did his attention waver. Never once did he grow disinterested in the story his brother told. He thinks he could have stayed up the rest of the night and well into morning to listen to Loki finish his tale, if that's how long it would have taken.

"That was glorious brother!" Thor exclaims afterward. "I wish it could go on."

Loki chuckles lightly as he stands, waving a hand and dousing what remains of their fire with magic, leaving the two of them only with the moon to give them light.

"Perhaps when we've completed our journey, I'll have another waiting for you." He answers. "But I think, for now, we should sleep. We've a fair way still to go until we reach the cave system, and another long while in search of the artifact, if indeed it's even there."

Thor nods.

"True enough." He agrees. "True enough."

/

Thor wakes as the sun is just making its way over the horizon, and to the sound of his brother, already awake, getting their things in order.

Thor knows by experience that Loki has likely already been awake a long while now. Knows that Loki sleeps little, and that when he does, it is restless and troubled.

Nightmares have always plagued him, ever since he was a small boy, and Thor had used to promise his brother protection from the monsters of his imagination, holding his trembling form close when he would come to his chambers, seeking refuge.

For some time, Thor does not move from where he lays on the ground, watching his brother work.

Loki is back to his natural, dark tresses, dressed already for their day's journey, diligent and prepared as always.

Thor smiles at the sight.

He thinks he does not tell his brother often enough, but he is sure he would have perished long ago on one of his reckless ventures had he not had Loki by his side to save him from his own stupidity and nearsighted tendencies.

Finally, after a time, he shifts himself to sitting, stretching out his limbs and yawning widely. The sun is bright and warm where it still sits, high against the horizon, and Thor feels good.

Today, he is suddenly certain, will be a fine one.

His reverie is abruptly interrupted when his riding tunic is at once thrown, unceremoniously, into his face, and he fumbles for it a moment before pulling it away and seeing Loki standing over him, smirking, hands on his hips and looking far too smug.

"Rise and shine, sleepy bones." He says, before turning away and resuming his work.

Thor can only smile in return.

Indeed, he thinks, today will be a fine one.

/

**AN: Hey guys! A huge thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter! I appreciate so much, and am so happy to hear you are enjoying it. If you have a chance, please continue to let me know what you think, and hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

It is about a half days journey more, by horseback, before they make it to the cave system, and they spend it, for the most, in companionable silence, broken only when Loki points out to Thor some part of the landscape with some history behind it. Loki, ever like a well of knowledge, seems to know everything, and Thor listens to his soft, lulling voice with rapt attention, soaking his words in.

They stop only once to rest their horses and eat, and then they are on their way again, the rest of the time spent in quiet reflection.

By the time they do reach their destination, the sun is at its highest point in the sky, the heat bearing down unpleasantly upon their backs, and Thor watches his brother with a concerned eye.

Loki has never done well in the heat, and he can see it even now affecting him, his movements noticeably more sluggish than would normally be the case, sweat heavy and thick against his brow and soaking through under the arms and down the back and front of his tunic. He'd long ago removed his riding coat, draped over his horse's rump.

"Are you well brother?" Thor asks as they dismount, moving towards Loki's mare and taking the reins from him. Loki lets him without protest, moving away and leaning slightly forward, hands on his knees as he takes in some deep breaths. He nods weakly.

"I am alright." He answers, though there's a slight waver in his voice, and Thor knows he is struggling. "I'll just need a moment."

"Here." Thor begins, removing his water skein from his belt and handing it over to his brother. "Drink this."

Loki looks up and straightens slightly, taking it with shaking fingers. He offers a weak smile to Thor, and the Thunderer can tell he's embarrassed.

Thor wishes he wouldn't be, but he understands why.

Loki endures enough already the criticism of others, their belittling his physical strength. Though Thor makes a point never to mention it, it is true, Loki is not as strong as the other gods, and within a culture where the power of your arm is heralded above all, it is a difficult thing to own.

Thor watches only a moment as Loki takes a generous pull from the skein, before turning away and giving his brother a moment alone to recoup.

He leads their horses to a shaded spot beneath a copse of trees and ties them securely, and by the time he returns to Loki's side, his brother seems a bit more recovered, less shaky, though still Thor can see minute tremors working through his hands and limbs.

He knows he risks Loki's temper by asking, but he would rather take Loki's scolding than end up with his brother ill.

"Do you need to rest a while Loki? We can sit in the shade for a time before going into the caves."

Predictably, Loki shakes his head no, and Thor doesn't miss the way he clasps his hands tightly together to stop them trembling.

"I'm fine." He insists, smiling, another weak attempt. Thor doesn't even attempt to look convinced, and so Loki continues…

"It will be cooler in the caves. It's best if we move on and get this over with."

Thor has to concede Loki makes a fair point there, though he can't help but take note too of Loki's seeming urgency now to be done with their quest.

He realizes Loki had been hesitant two days before, when Thor had come to him with the idea. But that was always how Loki was, overly cautious and a bit of a homebody. It always took a greater effort to get him out and about than it did with any of his friends, but once he _was_ able to convince his brother, Loki always seemed happier for it.

Though, now Thor thinks on it, Loki had been even more reluctant than usual this time. He'd said something about hidden dangers and there being a reason the artifact they sought had been placed in this particular system of caves, why none ever journeyed here to find it.

But Thor hadn't really been listening, shrugging his brother's protests off as he always did, teasing Loki into agreeing by asking if he was too cowardly for the trip, and if so, he would gladly go request Sif and the Warriors Three to come join him instead.

Brilliant as Loki was, Thor understood his pride to be a fragile thing, and he was, at times, absurdly easy to manipulate into doing what Thor wanted of him. Not that Thor would ever say so, lest Loki become wise to his frankly blunt tactics.

"Are you sure you are well Loki?" Thor presses, still concerned. "If you need time…"

"I said I am fine!" Loki finally snaps, that famous temper of his flaring slightly.

Thor raises his hands in acquiescence.

"I know Loki." He says gently. "I did not mean any insult by it. I just wished to make certain you were ready."

Loki huffs, visibly trying to calm himself.

He glances away, eyes casting to the ground.

"I know." He says softly. "I'm sorry. But really, I am fine. I wish simply to make our search and then be on our way."

Thor eyes him a moment longer, regarding him closely.

"If you are sure…" he finally relents.

Loki nods.

"I am." He replies, handing the water skein back to Thor and crossing his arms. "Let's go."

"Alright." Thor says, placing the skein back on his belt without another word. He doesn't want to sour Loki's mood further and risk the remainder of their quest to unhappy moods.

/

The system is vast.

Far larger than either of them anticipated, though Loki had done his best to research the area before they'd left, having found some partially completed maps.

They both now understood that no one had ever fully explored the place though. At least, no one that had bothered to make a record of it, in any event.

They'd been walking for the better part of an hour and a half now, the only light to illuminate their way the small witch light Loki held in the palm of his left hand, held out before them as he and Thor walked side by side, and still, they'd yet to come across any sort of artifact, or any indication of any sentient being having been here in the last several centuries at all.

The system was a literal maze of twists and turns, and Thor had long ago lost track of where'd they'd been and which direction they'd come from. His unease in that realization was settled only by the knowledge that Loki remembered exactly the way they had come and would know without error the way back out.

There were times, more than a few, when Thor was eternally grateful for the steel trap mind his brother possessed.

Another half hour of walking, few words passed between them, only the occasional sound of scurrying mice and rats to fill the dense, stale and damp air surrounding them, and Thor was beginning to lose inspiration.

Some quest this was turning out to be, he thinks bitterly. Thus far, they'd encountered no danger of any sort, no sign even of anything but miles and miles of endless, pitch dark to wander aimlessly through until they grew bored.

He is just about to open his mouth to tell Loki that he'd had enough and was ready to return to their horses when Loki's hand suddenly presses firm against his chest, stilling him sharply.

"Wait." He hisses quietly, voice no more than a whisper, and immediately, Thor's senses are on high alert.

He knows that tone in his brother. Knows Loki has spotted something to set his caution high.

As seconds pass without further indication from his brother, Thor asks, voice pitched low…

"What is it?"

"There." Loki whispers back, pointing towards the ground, some several feet ahead. "You see that there?"

Thor strains his eyes to see what his brother is referring to, but all he can make out is the dirt covered ground, tinted grey like dust in the dim light of Loki's flame.

He shakes his head slowly.

"No," he says. "I see nothing."

"There!" Loki hisses again. "You do not see that?"

"See _what _Loki?! I see nothing but plain earth!"

"There, the soaked through ground." Loki says in return, still hushed. "Do you not see how it undulates? How it works its way through the rock beneath?"

Thor huffs, straining his eyes again and still seeing nothing. He doesn't understand how Loki's sight can be so good in such blackness, and he begins stepping forward to see if he can glimpse a closer look, but Loki nearly shoves him backwards in an attempt to cease his progression.

"Stop, you fool!" He snaps, voice pitching higher in an almost panic, and Thor freezes, taken aback by the franticness in his tone.

"Loki…?" He begins warily.

"We need to go." Loki says. "Right now."

"Loki, what is this?" Thor presses, confusion gripping his mind. "What has you so wary?"

"That is venom." Loki says, the urgency in his voice winding tighter. "Some manner of venom. There is some creature here possessed of it and we need to…"

His words die in his throat as there comes suddenly from behind them a terrible, piercing hiss, breaking through their ears like the crash of waves upon rock, and the next thing Thor knows, Loki is shoving him out of the way, hard and fast, screaming at him to get down.

And then everything is a blur of violence and chaos.

Thor turns from where he's crashed, hard, into the compact earth beneath them, his vision filling with glistening red coils, thick around as the entirety of his frame, unnaturally bright and visible in the dark of the caves, folding ceaselessly atop one another in a nightmarish testament to its length.

The deafening hissing fills his ears again, seeming to rattle his bones and his eyes search frantically for the head.

For his brother...

And then he hears it, and his heart sinks like lead in his chest, the high pitched whine, choked off into a half suppressed cry.

Loki…

Thor surges to his feet, his hand falling to his side and finding the hilt of Mjolnir, pulling her free and raising her high.

His eyes finally catch sight of his brother then, staggering back from the giant serpent, clinging white knuckled to his forearm, and Thor's eyes go wide, panic settling deep in his gut at the sight of dark red, seeping between Loki's pale and trembling fingers.

He has his other hand raised up and forward, towards the snake, and the Thunderer can see the gathering of Loki's magic, forming violent and bright and ready to explode.

And then comes again the terrible hissing, and Thor's eyes snap away from Loki, finding the beasts hideous head, only feet from his brother, and Thor knows in his mind the thing can strike in an instant.

Its mouth gapes open, revealing glistening, horrible fangs a foot in length each, and a forked tongue thick as Thor's wrists flicking out, again and again. Venom sloughs and drips from the fangs ends, coating them thick and shining.

He doesn't think then.

There is no time for strategy.

No time for consideration of consequence or fear.

Only the knowledge that Loki is in danger of being struck, and he leaps forward, twirling Mjolnir where she rests in his grip, the hum of her power singing bright through the air.

Loki does not see him, knows only the threat before him, and in the instant Thor flies into the space between, bringing his hammer up in a wide arc beneath the serpents maw, Loki's magic bursts forth from the tips of his fingers, impacting against the snakes flaring nose in the exact moment Thor's blow lands true.

There is an agonized cry, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Thor knows it is Loki.

Only there is no time to think on it, as the raw power of it blows both gods back off their feet, skidding away several feet, Mjolnir flying from Thor's grip, and the serpents head snaps upwards, crashing in a numbing boom against the roof of the cave, the entirety of the space shaking ominously to seemingly its very foundations.

For long seconds then, there is only the sound of displaced air and crumbling debris as it drifts down upon them, falling dust and pebbles.

Thor's lungs feel compressed, and for a moment, he cannot gather breath, struggling to suck air as he pushes himself up.

His eyes search desperately for Loki then, remembering his brother, the cry of pain he'd heard.

Relief floods through him when he spots the younger prince, only a few feet from him, pushing himself up from his back.

For an instant, their eyes meet, locked on to one another in the comfort of familiarity and reassurance.

It lasts but a moment, as Thor's eyes find the raw and sluggishly bleeding wound along Loki's forearm, the fabric of his tunic and steel of his vambraces torn asunder, revealing already swollen and discolored skin beneath.

His mouth falls open to call his brother's name, moving to stand to his feet, only to freeze, eyes widening, watching as Loki's do the same at the sound of stone, cracking, falling to pieces.

The both of them then find their heads snapping upwards, glancing the roof of the cave, and the serpent, reared up and mouth open, yellow blood seeping slow and useless from the things nostrils.

And across the roof, their eyes following the swift and sudden progress of a forming fissure, rapidly spreading and branching out into several, smaller breaks.

They know before it happens what it is.

And still, it happens too quickly.

The fissures spread, like iced flakes along a pane of glass, the sound of crumbling, loosing rock filling the space, below the renewed hissing of the giant snake, and then, like the blast of a heaving furnace, white hot and oppressing, there comes a roaring crack, like a great boom, and suddenly the roof is falling.

In massive boulders, chunks of it come crashing down with the speed of gravity to aid them.

The snake rears backwards, the ceiling falling past, just missing the beast, and Thor sees then.

He sees the boulders fall directly in his path. Sees there is no time, no space for him to move.

Loki sees it too, and his little brother's voice is the last thing he hears before the weight of countless tons come crashing upon him, taking him and the ground beneath down with it.

He falls, and it seems he falls forever, an endless drift down into darkness, blinding pain his only true companion.

/

**AN: Another huge thank you to all my readers and reviewers on this thing! Again, I appreciate you all so much, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story. Please let me know what you think if you have a chance!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

"THOR!" Loki cries, scrambling to the edge of what is now a sheer drop, what had only seconds before been solid earth at their feet.

He looks over into what is almost pure blackness, his heart beating a wild, sickening pace against his ribs as he sees nothing, _nothing_, and at once his eyes sting, vision blurring in treacherous weakness.

Viciously he tries to shove it down.

No, he thinks, no, that will do no good. It will do Thor no good now to cry.

To be so scared.

Oh, but gods, he is _afraid_.

But Thor is _not_ dead. He's _not_. He _can't _be.

Thor is, is, is… he's so strong, and there is no foe which can defeat him. Even… even if the drop was a great distance, Thor will… he'll have made it. He'll be alright.

Loki believes that.

He has to believe that. He _has to_!

Oh gods, oh, what does he do? What does he…

He thinks of the roof coming down, huge chunks of rock falling, and they must have weighed countless tons. Falling onto Thor, tearing free the very ground with their weight, pulling his big brother into darkness with them, and Loki can't see, he can't see _anything_.

But Thor is strong. He is _so _strong. Stronger than any other in Asgard, and he must have, he would be able to lift, to…

Only what if he _can't_? What if he's trapped down there under all those tons of stone and…

Oh, what is he _doing_?! He needs to move, needs to get down there _now_ and _do something_!

He thinks to teleport, but as the thought passes through his mind, his magic within him roils dangerously, a sudden, almost overwhelming wave of dizziness crushing down upon him, and he remembers suddenly the blinding, white hot pain which had rippled through his frame when he'd unleashed his power upon the serpent.

And he knows there is something wrong.

Knows before he even tries to reach for it, his magic sits trapped and broken inside him, and the throbbing burn of where the snake had struck him roars behind his eyes.

The snake.

He forgot about…

The dread filled hissing again overtakes his ears, and Loki's eyes shoot wide, knowing it's too close. Right behind him.

He doesn't think, doesn't have time to. Knows only he has to get down there, get to his brother and _do something_.

And the next moment, he's swinging himself over the broken off ledge, clinging with shaking limbs to the sheered rock face.

Above him, the hissing reaches a cacophonous level and he dares to glance upwards, eyes large and vibrating in his skull as he sees the massive head of the serpent, reared high before him, mouth wide and fangs glistening bright in the darkness.

Fear is like a lance through him, forcing a choked gasp from Loki's lips before he forces it down and looks away.

Climb, he thinks to himself. He has to climb down.

And so he begins, precarious and slow, he can't see anything, doesn't know where he's placing his feet or hands, and he can feel himself shaking, willing himself to stop and failing.

The roar of the serpent fills his ears again, and he hears a sound like a whip through the air, knowing the thing is striking at him once more, and in his panicked terror, Loki's hands slip and he begins to slide, free fall, down the rock face.

A startled gasp rips from his throat and he scrambles for purchase again, fingers curling and clawing at the stone and dirt before him, feet kicking forward.

His stomach is in his throat and his heart pounding unrelentingly in his chest until it feels it will burst.

He doesn't know how far he drops before he finally regains his hold on the wall. Only knows he is dizzy now with fear and his limbs shake more violently than ever before.

For long seconds, he clings to the wall, trembling, sweat gathering warm and wet down his back, along his forehead, dripping into his eyes and soaking his hair.

He forces himself to breathe, to suck in large mouthfuls of air, before at last, he gains the courage to glance back above him, and he sees he's fallen a far enough distance to make the edge of the cliff a distant memory, the snake out of sight, having retreated back away.

It is only a minor relief, and Loki allows himself a moment to regain his bearings, closing his eyes and letting his forehead fall forward to touch the wall, clinging there for several, long seconds and working to calm his racing heart.

And when at last he feels his arms and legs more steady, and his breath come more surely, he swallows thickly, nodding to himself. He can do this. He… he has to do this.

For Thor. He has to do this.

He begins his slow decent, blind and in the dark.

He goes.

/

It seems an eternity he's been climbing, and with each passing moment, Loki can feel himself weakening.

His limbs have begun again to tremble, and his hands ache viciously, fingers torn apart and bleeding, his joints screaming at him to stop, stop, stop!

But he cannot.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows it's the snake's venom working through him. Knows he's been poisoned and that, more than the climb itself, is what is draining him of his strength.

For a moment, he pauses, trying to force more air into his lungs, again resting his head against the cool surface of the rock.

He has to keep going.

Thor is down there, and he doesn't know how badly he's hurt. He doesn't know if he's even…

Forcefully, Loki shakes his head, driving the thoughts from his mind.

No. _No_!

Thor is down there, he's alive, and Loki is going to find him. He's going to…

He swallows again, licking his dry and already chapping lips, trying to ignore how parched his mouth feels, and takes his decent back up.

/

**Thanks so much again to everyone whose read and reviewed! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

It startles Loki when he stretches his leg downward, seeking careful purchase along the wall, and rather than free air, he feels the impact of his foot instead hitting solid ground.

It jostles him a moment, and he sucks in a sharp breath at it, eyes going wide, confusion flooding through him.

And a moment later, his mind catches up, and he realizes with shocked relief that he's reached the end.

He's been climbing so long, and deep in his mind, he estimates the drop from top to bottom to have been at least a thousand feet.

He tries desperately not to think on the consequences of such a great height to fall from.

Thor is near invincible. He would survive such a drop. He _would_.

Slowly, with caution, Loki lets his foot plant flat on the ground, and lowers his other from where it's still hooked against the wall, feeling both feet solidly on the dirt before allowing his hands to let go their deathlike grip on the stone.

Exhaustion is like a weight upon him, and his arms and legs shake of their own volition, his knees feeling at any moment as though they will go out from under him. He is sweating profusely now, despite the cool dampness of the air, and he has to keep wiping his forehead to keep the sweat from dripping into his eyes.

Swallowing, throat burning, at last he wills himself to turn around and look.

The space before him is nearly pitch black, and he struggles to see anything.

But as his eyes begin to adjust, he is able to make out broad, long shapes, jagged at their edges, and he knows instinctively he's seeing the broken apart boulders of the collapsed roof.

His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, renewed dread filling his heart.

He steps forward, short and trepid.

"Th-Thor?" He calls softly, hope and fear mixing in a sickening snarl in the pit of his stomach.

There comes no reply, and Loki feels his heart beat harder somehow against his ribs, his eyes stinging treacherously.

"Thor?" He calls again, a little louder, voice cracking only slightly.

And then he hears it.

A quiet groan, so soft, it's barely there.

Loki stills, freezes in mid stride, ears straining, eyes wide.

He swallows again.

"Thor…" he tries again, and he nearly collapses from the awful relief when he hears his name spoken back, weak and trembling but _there_.

"Loki?"

He doesn't even try to stop it as the tears well instantly in his eyes and slip free down his face.

"Oh, gods, Thor…" he starts, voice shaking. "where are you? I… I'm right here. I'm…"

"Loki, I…" Thor's voice is strained and thin. "I'm trapped. There is… my legs are trapped underneath…"

Loki stumbles forward, hands outreached and searching.

"Where are you?" He asks. "I cannot…"

Suddenly, his hands meet cold stone, and he knows he's found the remains of the collapsed ceiling.

"I'm r-right here Thor." He calls out. "I have my hands on stone."

"Loki, you're… you're right above me. I can hear you. J-just reach down and…"

Loki doesn't hesitate, crouching to his knees and reaching forward, carefully.

A moment later, and he feels his fingers brush against soft, warm skin, and in an instant, Thor's strong fingers are clasping around his own hand, squeezing tight, and Loki can't help it, he sobs out in relief.

"Oh gods, Thor… Thor…" he cries, bringing his other hand around his older brother's, clasping it tight and pulling it to his lips, kissing it softly.

"Loki, c-can you…" Thor starts, and has to stop as a weak groan slips past his lips, filled with pain.

Panic lances through Loki's heart, beginning its furious beat again against his ribs.

"Thor, you're hurt. You're…"

"Brother, can you bring a l-light?" Thor at last forces out, and Loki can hear his harsh breaths, wheezing out into the dense air.

It strikes him as wrong. As so, so wrong.

Thor doesn't get hurt. He's… he's never seen his brother get really, truly hurt. He's…

He has to bite his lip to keep from sobbing again, fresh tears filling and slipping past his eyes as he shakes his head.

"I… I know not Thor. I… th-the serpent, it… it struck me and my magic, th-there's something wrong with my magic."

His voice trembles almost uncontrollably now as the realization finally sinks in. As he allows himself to realize it.

"Thor, my magic…"

He's scared. He's so scared, and he can't even begin to hide it.

He feels Thor squeeze his hand firmly.

"Alright Loki." He says softly. "It's alright. We'll… we'll work something out. You're going to be alright."

Loki almost wants to laugh then, at the absurdity of the whole thing.

Thor is the one trapped beneath so many tons of rock, the one who fell a thousand feet or more with the weight of it upon him, and yet it is he who now comforts Loki.

He who promises that everything will be alright.

He shakes his head, dragging a hand across his eyes.

"I need to… Thor, I need to get… g-get these things off you. I need to…"

"Loki, listen to me." Thor interrupts him, still thin and strained. "We d-don't know what manner of venom flows through that monsters fangs. We… you cannot strain yourself. You need to stay calm lest it f-flow more quickly through your veins. If the poison spreads too quickly…"

"No Thor, I'm fine." Loki says, struggling to keep the panic from his voice. "I can't… I need to get these stones off of you. I can't leave you trapped beneath them."

There is a long drag of silence then, only the harsh sounds of both brothers' breaths filling the dark space.

"Thor?" Loki starts after too long has passed and he begins to fear something has happened.

"The stones are heavy Loki." Thor finally says. "I know not… I know not if you can move them. N-not without your magic."

Loki feels his throat tighten, his chest constrict as though a terrible weight has been placed upon it, and he looks away from the direction of Thor's voice.

"I… I have to try." He says, voice wavering and he silently curses himself for his pathetic weakness. "I have to try Thor."

Another, long moment of silence, and at last, Thor breaths out.

"Alright Loki. Alright, but… if you feel at all unwell, I want you to stop. Understood? You have to…"

Loki nods before stupidly remembering that Thor cannot see him.

"Aye." He says. "Aye, y-you have my word."

He struggles to his feet then, reaching out and finding the cool surface of the stone again. He drags his palms along it, lower and lower, until he finds the edge of it, hooking his fingers and the uppermost part of his palms beneath. Bending his knees, he breaths out harshly.

"Thor, I'm going to... t-to lift it off onto your right. Alright?"

"Alright." He hears Thor answer.

Loki nods again, more to himself this time.

And then, breathing the air back in, he tries to lift with all the strength he has.

The thing barely shifts at all, and he hears Thor suck a breath in sharply, the sound pained.

"A-are you alright?" Loki hesitates, fear gripping his insides.

"I'm fine." Thor forces out. "It's just… my legs, I think they're b-broken."

"Oh gods…" Loki stammers.

"It's alright brother." Thor tries to reassure. "Just… we'll worry about that when we've gotten the rock away."

"Alr… alright." Loki tries to sound stronger, hating the tears which continue to form in his eyes and slip down his cheeks. "I… I'm going to try again." He warns.

"Alright." He hears Thor say.

Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, Loki again puts everything he has into lifting the stone, a thin, frustrated whine working up from his throat as the thing refuses at all the move, to shift off of his brother even a little.

A choked off sob rips past his lips as the realization sinks in that he isn't strong enough. That he _can't do it_, and inside, he hates himself. He hates himself so much. Oh, Norns, why did he have to be so _weak_?! Why did he have to be born with this frail, pathetic form of his? If… if it was Fandral or Hogun or Volstagg, even… even Sif, they could have moved the stone off of Thor. They could have…

"Loki, stop…" he hears Thor say, and another sob escapes him, louder and less controlled this time. "Loki, it's alright."

"I can't do it." Loki cries, not even trying to hide the fact. "I… I'm not strong enough. I…"

"Loki, it's alright." Thor says again, bizarrely calm and steady. "I… I have a plan. I think…"

Loki lets go of the stone and brings the back of his hand to his eyes, wiping at them angrily.

"What?" He asks after a moment, and he hates the way he sounds so much like a _child_. He knows he's young yet, he… he knows he's barely out of boyhood, but… but Thor is not much further removed, and yet his brother sounds so calm, so composed, even as he is the one trapped under an incalculable and crushing weight.

"I can call Mjolnir to me. She's… she's somewhere up there, still." Thor replies gently. "If… if I can break a part of the rock away with a well placed blow, mayhap… mayhap I can get the stone small enough for you to lift off the rest?"

Loki wipes at his eyes again, taking in the idea.

Maybe it will work. Maybe, if he's…

Oh, Thor is so much smarter than Loki's ever given him credit for.

He feels so foolish, so stupid and weak and…

"Loki?" Thor asks, and Loki snaps from his spiraling thoughts.

"Yes, yes, al-alright." He says. "Alright."

"Fine then little brother." Thor goes on. "I need you to stand well clear of me. I don't want Mjolnir striking you through mishap."

Loki shuffles away, far as he can from where he knows Thor's hands and arms to be, and calls out alright.

He wonders briefly, suddenly, why Thor had not thought to do this before, and realizes with churning sickness that his brother must have been knocked unconscious, lying so for Norns only knew how long before he arrived. And he must have been so dazed when he woke…

He crosses his arms over his chest, waiting.

His legs feel weaker still than they did before. He can feel them trembling and threatening to give way, his arms heavy where he holds them, dizziness racking his head.

He's suddenly too aware of the dryness in his mouth and throat now, and the way his head is beginning to pound, a vicious, acute stabbing pain, like needles behind his eyes and through his temples.

His lids slip closed, trying to focus, to will the discomfort away.

He needs to stay alright. He needs to stay standing for Thor. He's… he can't give in to this.

The burning along his forearm is worsening, he abruptly realizes, spreading up the entirety of his limb, into his shoulder. It's like a fire inching closer to the skin, pressing in, the pressure of heat increasing as it comes nearer.

That, too, he tries to ignore.

His eyes come open at the sound of Thor's hammer, singing through the air, and as she descends, her head alight, the space about them is lit with it, and at last, they can see.

Mjolnir smacks loudly into Thor's outstretched palm, glowing bright bluewhite in the darkness, like a beacon, and immediately, Loki runs to his side again, painful relief flooding through him at finally being able to see his brother.

Thor is a mess, his hair a grime ridden gnarl, tangled about his shoulders, his face bruised and cut deeply across his brow and up the right side of his jaw, abrasions along his normally flawless skin, soot covered and blood drying. Bright, blue eyes dulled and fogged over in obvious pain.

Loki kneels, reaching out a shaking hand and placing it, gently as he can, along Thor's forehead, pushing his hair back, out of his eyes.

Thor stares up at him, and Loki can see him assessing his own state, a vague frown tugging at his lips.

Loki can only imagine what he himself looks like, but as he drags his sight from Thor's face and lets it fall over the massive stone pinning his brother's legs to the earth, the nauseating dread returns, and he fears he may be sick.

He supposes it can only be thought luck, that of all the crumbling pieces which came crashing from the cave's roof, now strewn about the small, deep hole the two of them sit trapped in, only one among them did fall upon Thor.

Though luck, Loki knows, cuts both ways, and it is the largest of the pieces which has his brother pinned, and the second Prince knows his brother's legs will be useless, even if he is able to get the stone free, the bones likely shattered.

He does not know how they are going to escape from here. Not with Thor crippled and he rapidly succumbing to…

He shakes the thoughts from his mind, bringing his eyes back to Thor's face.

Thor is smiling up at him now, the effort weak and forced.

He brings his free hand up, and Loki feels him cup the side of his face, a rough and calloused thumb running across his cheek, wiping at his tears.

"Do not cry, little brother." Thor says. "I swear to you, all will be well."

But the words only cause Loki's face to crumple, eyes filling with more tears, and he cannot bear to look at his brother anymore, gaze casting aside.

"I am sorry." He says, voice wavering and weak. "I am…"

"What have you to be sorry for brother?" Thor asks, huffing a strained laugh. "'Tiss not you who brought us on this ill begot venture. If there is one who should be offering apology, 'tiss I indeed."

Loki shakes his head, hands trembling where they lay upon Thor's head and chest.

"I am… I am sorry f-for not being strong enough. For being incapable of m-moving the stone. If… if I had let you go to Fandral or Hogun o-or Sif, if you had brought one of them instead of me, you… you would not be here now, in this place. You would not be…"

"Enough of that little brother," Thor says softly, shaking his head, hand still cupping the side of Loki's face. "I would have no other by my side now, if even I could. I would have no other."

Again, Loki wipes the tears from his eyes, unable still to meet Thor's gaze.

Thor only smiles at him, again, inhaling deeply and letting it go in an even breath.

"You are braver than you know, little brother." He says.

And then he is leaning up, sitting as best he can.

"Should I hold you?" Loki starts, uncertain, and Thor shakes his head.

"Nay." He replies. "You should stand away, and cover your head with your arms."

Loki doesn't protest the order, moving away from Thor and doing as he's told.

He watches then, as Thor hefts Mjolnir in his grip, struggling to get the proper leverage for a full arced swing, only able to sit part way up off the ground as he is. He has his other arm up, shielding his own face, and in the moment Loki sees him bring the hammer down upon the rock, he glances away, covering his head with his arms, just as his big brother told him to do.

There comes a shuddering boom, an overwhelming wave of cracking, splitting rock, a rush of displaced air, like a strong wind against Loki's upraised arms, and the smell of thick, smothering dust fills the space.

For long seconds it continues, filling the younger Prince's ears, and he waits until at last the chaotic noise dies down, before lowering his arms from his face and blinking through the fog of debris still littering the air.

The dust irritates his eyes slightly, and he rubs at them viciously as he tries to see clear.

And when at last he is able, he finds Thor, leaned back down, breathing heavily, Mjolnir dropped upon her head at his side, and the stone pinning his legs about half so substantial as it was before, numerous smaller chunks of it strewn about the ground now, shattered away.

He waits no longer to move back to his brother's side, falling to his knees and taking Thor's hand again in his own.

"Are you well Thor?" Loki asks, feeling foolish for even asking when clearly he is not.

Thor swallows thickly, and long moments pass before he is able to gather enough breath to reply.

"Aye." He answers. "But I do not think I have another such move in me little brother. You will… you will have to be able to move the rest."

Loki swallows, nodding, before eyeing what's left of the stone.

Thor has done an admirable job on the thing, he thinks. It can't weigh more than half of what it did now. Maybe thirty, forty tons, if he were to estimate.

It will still be far heavier than anything Loki has ever had to lift in his life, and he cannot help the worrying churn in his stomach at the thought. He hasn't… he hasn't ever shown any true prowess in such fields. He's always been so far outstripped by… by _everyone _when it came to feats and shows of strength.

He can hear the laughter, ringing like a drum through his ears, flashes of memories. Strength training with all the others, watching as they would lift above their heads with the ease one might lift a feather, weighted objects he could scarce budge the smallest of fractions.

They would laugh because he was so _weak_. Because he was their _Prince_ and yet he was so woefully inadequate to be called a warrior of Asgard.

If he should fail to lift the stone from Thor's legs, he…

He isn't sure, in his present condition, how long Thor will be able to hold out. Loki has seen enough injury to understand that it is the internal damage which presents the greatest danger to his brother, and he needs to get that rock off of him if he has any hope of healing.

"Al… alright." Loki nods, finally. "Alright. I…" he turns back to Thor, locking eyes with the elder Prince.

Thor looks back at him with so much trust, and it terrifies Loki in a way he cannot put words to. He, who is called wordsmith, he who they call silvertongue.

"I will not fail you brother." Loki swears to him, and can only pray to the Norns that he can uphold his oath.

Thor nods, grasping Loki's hand tightly.

"I know you will not." He says.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

It takes all that he has, and even then, he is not at first sure he will be able.

Fingers bury, crushing the stone as he grips with full force, breaking through the surface of rock, and with his knees bent, he leans back, taking the thing onto his forearms and chest, face pressed aside to the cold surface.

He lifts.

A strangled huff rips past his lips, slipping into a pained grunt as he struggles with every reserve of his strength to bring the stone up off of Thor's legs.

Its weight is almost unbearable, even still, but Loki knows, he _knows_ he must succeed. He cannot fail.

And so he forces himself to straighten, keeping his hold, keeping the stone leaned back against his chest. Forces his knees up and straight, his back straight, and with all of his will, at last, at last, the stone comes free from the ground, from Thor's crushed legs.

Loki's lids clamp shut, teeth grinding together with the effort, tremendous as it is, and absently the thought of them cracking from the pressure flits through his mind.

It is all he can do to step backwards, to keep his footing while supporting such weight. Another, several steps, and then blessedly, he hears Thor call out.

"The way is clear Loki!"

He lets the stone drop, gasping out with the relief on his joints and back, hands and arms.

The rock crashes to the ground with a caucaphanous racket, shaking the earth beneath them with the impact, and Loki flops gracelessly after it, collapsing in a heap.

His breaths come sharp and shallow and quick, and he feels sweat seeping in waves from his forehead, into his eyes, his tunic soaked through with it, his hair damp and tangled.

His head pounds now worse than ever, blossoming and radiating back through his skull, noticing abruptly that his sight has grown vaguely blurred.

Somewhere, in the periphery of his thoughts, he realizes this isn't just exhaustion. Knows it's the serpent's venom, working through his blood. Somewhere, he feels with that knowledge an acute kind of fear.

He thinks about dying. Thinks about how pathetic it would be, having two and a half centuries yet until he reaches his thousandth name day, hardly a man at all.

At least Thor can claim that distinction.

And then he thinks of Thor. Thinks of Thor dying, and the fear is so much more real, so thick it's as though he can taste it, and no, no, no, he thinks, he can't let that happen. He can't.

He staggers to his feet then, forcing himself, and stumbles weakly to Thor's side, dropping down and letting his eyes run over his older brother's ruined legs.

He forces himself to focus.

Thor's legs are a bloody mess, his breeches torn and shredded, and beneath, Loki can see skin split and shorn apart, bone visible through the chaos of skin and cloth and muscle.

Oh, if only he could reach his magic, he could… he could do something. He could _fix_ this.

But he can't, and he is naught but useless now. He hasn't… hasn't even a way to clean the wound properly.

Swallowing thickly, he moves his gaze back to Thor's face, seeing it drawn with exhaustion and pain, and without thinking, Loki reaches out, placing a hand upon his forehead, smoothing his hair back.

Thor reaches clumsily back, eyes half lidded as he grasps Loki's wrist, holding it loosely.

"You did… well… little brother." He manages, voice somehow weaker, more strained than before.

Wretchedly, Loki feels the sting return to his eyes, feels the treacherous damp as tears fill and fall free, running down his cheeks.

How is it he has done well, when he can think of no way out of this? For all his lauded intellect and self-proclaimed cleverness, he cannot think of a way to save his brother. Cannot even think of a way to save himself.

He fears they shall perish in this Norns-forsaken pit.

He only can pray Heimdall will search for them, see them and send help.

His eyes close, feeling more tears escape, and for a moment, it is like he cannot breathe, an overwhelming despair washing through him.

Without words, he crawls around, behind his brother, pushing his hands beneath Thor's broad, strong shoulders and lifting him up, pulling the older god into his lap and against his chest.

Thor's head falls back against his chest, and Loki wraps his arms round his brother's own, burying his face to Thor's shoulder.

He feels Thor's hand come up, laying warm and comforting over his forearm, squeezing gently.

For a long while, they sit like that, silence between them.

For a long while, they only cling to each other, there in the cold dark.

/

**AN: Shorter chapter here guys. Sorry about that. Hope you're still enjoying, and again, thank you to all my readers and reviewers!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

Behind him, Thor can hear his brother, breaths shallow and rapid, an ugly rattle having begun with every inhale and exhale of air.

He worries, the fear gnawing away at him with every, passing moment.

He too can feel at his back that Loki has lost consciousness, lying limp and still, his head a small weight against Thor's shoulder.

Where Thor grasps his hand, his brother's skin feels unnaturally cold, clammy where sweat dries and reforms again.

He knows not how long the both of them have been trapped down here.

Minutes or hours or even days.

It feels an eternity, and with no sun, there is no hope in any ability to deduce the passage of time.

Thor worries.

His legs are healing. He can feel the bone and muscle and skin knitting itself back together. Though the process is numbingly _slow_ without the aid of magic, only his body's natural abilities to now rely upon. It will take some several days, he thinks, before they are fully advanced, and he knows, deep in the back of his mind, that his little brother does not have so long.

Loki, who despite his will of iron and stubborn pride and his great warrior's heart, is of a constitution so much frailer than the other gods.

Who now has in him a deathly venom, coursing through his veins.

Who has already worn himself to exhaustion in his aid of his older brother.

Memories of Loki as a boy, so often sick and confined to bed, relegated to the healing rooms, while the other children enjoyed only hale and whole robustness and time out in the sun, so rarely if ever falling to illness, flood Thor's mind, and he feels his heart heavy.

He glances aside, and sees Loki's right arm, hanging limp at his side. Sees the grotesque swelling and blackened discoloration through the torn fabric and sundered metal, red blood pouring sluggishly still from the wound.

They are running out of time, and Thor is simply not healing _fast enough_.

He turns away, eyes stinging as he leans his head back, gazing up into the pitch blackness above them.

He can see nothing past a few meters. Can hear nothing. He knows though the serpent remains above, waiting.

His hand along his brother's arm tightens.

"Heimdall." He whispers into the dark. "My friend, if you can hear me, please… please, we are in need of your help."

/

It is some hours later, and still, Loki has not woken. He remains unnaturally still behind him, breathes barely heard, the rattling in his chest worsening further.

Thor's insides are beginning to roil with dread.

He had thought to let his brother rest for as long as possible, so that he might regain a semblance of strength. But now he is beginning to fear that the serpents venom has begun its final course, dragging Loki into an unresponsive death trance, his body falling in a coma to cope with the undoubted pain of dying.

He swallows thickly, struggling as he forces himself to sit up straighter, his hold on Loki tightening strongly.

"Loki…" he begins, doing away now with thoughts of letting his brother sleep.

There comes no reply, and Thor abruptly feels a lance of unadulterated panic through his heart.

"Loki!" He snaps, louder, and his grip on his brother is becoming dangerously hard. "Brother, answer me!" He goes on, turning, taking hold of Loki's shoulders as he does and pulling him to his side.

Facing him now, he sees Loki's head droop forward, chin nearly touching his chest, limp as a child's doll, skin ashen and broken out in feverous sweats.

Thor shakes him, once, twice, and when Loki remains unresponsive, Thor shakes him again, a third time, hard enough to make his head snap backwards in a violent motion, and for an instant, Thor's breath catches, fearing he's truly hurt his brother.

It is an overwhelming relief then, when he hears a pained moan slip from Loki's throat, followed by the younger Prince's head falling back forward, bleary, unfocused eyes blinking open, dried lips parting in confused surprise.

Thor does not miss the way saliva gathers and dries at the corners of his brother's mouth, nor the glassy, glazed look of his eyes.

He reaches up, cupping the back of Loki's head, gently, holding him upright.

Loki gazes back at him for a long moment, uncomprehending, before his voice at last comes, cracked and thin.

"Mmm… Mama?" He asks, and Thor feels his throat tighten, eyes burning.

He brings his other hand to the side of his brother's face, stroking a thumb softly from the corner of an eye, up Loki's temple, brushing away the moisture there.

"It's me Loki." He says quietly. "It's Thor."

Loki blinks back at him, eyes still lost. He swallows thickly.

"Thor?" He asks after a moment.

Thor forces a weak smile, nodding.

"Aye brother." He says.

Loki continues looking back, and Thor feels his stomach drop as he sees no understanding light his brother's gaze.

"Wh… where are we?" Loki slurs slightly, his gaze at last flicking away from Thor's, wandering, bewildered, about the space.

Terror is like a lead weight in Thor's chest, thoughts that his brother has fallen into some sort of delirium racing through his mind.

"Y-you do not remember?" He asks unsteadily, his grip tightening inadvertently. "The caves. Th… the serpent." He tries to remind.

It is slow to come, but blessedly, Thor sees recognition bleed into Loki's eyes, and he brings his gaze back to his older brother, face creased heavily in concern.

He swallows, what seems with difficulty, and Thor knows it's the dryness of his mouth and throat.

"Y-your legs…" he breathes, recollection taking him hard. "are they… a-are they yet healed? Are they…"

"Healing yet, little brother." Thor answers. "The process is slow without the aid of magic."

Loki's eyes drop from him then. Thor sees his frame go ridged, hands balling in the material of his breeches, and he realizes, a moment later, that it is _guilt _he sees in his brother's expression.

Something awful uncurls in his belly at the sight.

"Loki," he begins, but his brother's voice cuts him short.

"I… I'm sorry Thor." He says, and his voice trembles, as though he is on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry. This… this is my fault. This all is my fault. If… if I hadn't al… allowed myself to be bitten by that serpent, if I had o-only been quicker…"

"Loki, no…" Thor tries to interject, but Loki keeps going.

"You… you were right. You and the others. Wh-what use am I without my tricks? Without my magic? I… I can do naught but sit here and wish for a rescue. I cannot even heal your legs so you may fly us from here. I… and… and y-you… you are so brave Thor." He says, and he sounds like a child. Like he did as a child, and he would tell Thor the same, gazing up at his big brother with all the awe and admiration in the Nine Realms. "I… can but p-pray that someday I will show your same courage. If… if we find ourselves away from here, if…"

"Loki, listen to me." Thor tightens his hold, moving his hand to the back of his brothers neck. "The courage you have shown here today will be sung of for centuries to come. You _came _for me. When so many others would have run. Do you not see?"

Loki's gaze remains moved from him, silent, and so Thor presses on.

"This is no one's fault. Only a matter of unforeseeable circumstance. And we _will_ make it out of here, I give you my word." He tries to smile, though he knows the attempt is wavering. "We have been in worse positions than this, little brother." He says, forcing a laugh. "Remember our last venture to Nidavilir?"

Loki won't look at him, his eyes cast to the ground, and Thor can feel the minute trembling through his frame begin to worsen, the sweat heavier against Loki's brow.

He knows his brother's condition is worsening, that his confessions of fear and guilt were brought forth by a deteriorating physical state, that to leave himself so open and vulnerable could only have come from such.

And it is all Thor can do to make himself believe his own words.

He will _not_ let his little brother die down here. He _will not_.

"Oh, Loki…" Thor breaths softly, and without another thought, he pulls the younger Prince to him, wrapping thick arms about his brother's thin frame, holding him against his chest.

Loki sags against him, exhausted, Thor cradling the back of his head, massaging his scalp with strong fingers.

"We will make it out of here." He promises again.

Loki says nothing, only shivers against him, fingers buried in the material of Thor's tunic.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

It feels as though days have passed, though Thor is certain it can only have been two, perhaps three hours, at most.

He has Loki against him still. His brother lies limp and unresponsive. Unconscious now, he thinks.

Thor had been trying to comfort him, trying, with his clumsy, thick tongue to return Loki's favor of tale telling, trying to weave a story to distract his brother from what was increasing, worsening pain.

Loki hadn't seemed to mind Thor's sorry attempts, his head buried against the elder god's chest, every now and again making a small, almost contented noise in the back of his throat.

But Thor's words had stuttered to a halt when, perhaps some twenty, thirty minutes ago, Loki had begun to shake more violently, and pained, almost agonized moans had begun to slip from his throat.

When the tremors had begun to bleed into convulsions, Thor's heart had nearly given out in his chest, he's sure, such acute terror had ripped through him, the sight of blood seeping, slow and sluggish from Loki's mouth and nostrils only worsening the panic.

He'd held his brother against him, trying to hold him still, thick tears clouding his vision as they escaped ceaselessly down his face, and he called Loki's name again and again.

Thor isn't sure he's ever felt such fear in his life.

He had been sure for a moment his brother was _dying_, and there had been nothing, _nothing_ he could do to stop it.

When Loki had finally fallen still, slack in Thor's hold, Thor had frantically pressed his fingers to his brother's pulse point, waiting, a new level of horror clenching his heart when at first he'd felt nothing.

Only when he'd at last felt the faint flutter against the pads of his fingers did he allow himself to breathe.

There's no more time left though, Thor knows.

He… he should not have waited. He's allowed Loki's condition to get to this point by doing so.

Oh, his thrice cursed legs, if only they would heal _faster_!

Without their use, he knows flying with Mjolnir will be near impossible. He needs his legs to steer well, and with the added weight of his brother in one arm, the task will be made only more difficult still.

And then there is the snake, waiting for them up above.

So impaired, Thor isn't at all certain in his ability to maneuver them past the thing.

But there is _no time_.

He can't allow his brother to remain like this any longer, can't let this get worse, and nobody's come… nobody's coming, he thinks.

He swallows, trying to shift to face Loki more fully.

Pain lances like blistering irons through his only partially healed legs, and he has to grit his teeth hard to keep from screaming.

His left arm wraps round Loki's waist, holding him tight against his chest, as with his other hand, he takes up his hammer, gripping the hilt white knuckled.

"Loki…" he starts, softly at first.

Looking down at his brother, he sees his pale skin far more ashen than is normal, short hair drenched through with sweat, and clammy against his face. Blood still trickles slow from the corners of Loki's dried lips, from his nose.

Thor watches his chest for breath, a long, anxious moment, only mildly relieved at seeing it rise and then fall again.

"Loki." He tries again, louder.

There still comes no response, and Thor has to fight not to sob. It will do neither of them any good if he cannot control his emotions now.

He bends down, pressing his lips to the crown of his brother's head.

"I'm going to get us out of here, little brother." He swears softly.

And as he lifts Mjolnir above his head, his arm round Loki tightens further, and he braces himself for what he knows will be agony.

/

It is a thousand fold worse than he could have imagined, Thor thinks blearily as he rockets upward, Mjolnir gripped tight and Loki pressed with unyielding determination to his torso, his attention half torn between holding his precious burden and keeping his eyes fixed forward into the dark, lighting by lengths as they speed ever quicker skyward.

The pain is sickening, and without the use of his legs, the effort to control Mjolnir seems incalculably more difficult.

He has no plan to battle the giant serpent once they've reached that point.

He is in no condition to engage the monster so, and his priority is to protect his brother.

Only the point is rapidly approaching, and he begins to doubt the validity of this plan.

He doesn't know the way out. Has no clear thought as to how to find the exit beyond a vague idea to simply launch him and Loki straight forward, in the general direction from which they'd come.

He'll have to fly them over the serpent, assuming the thing is still coiled somewhere up there, and there's no time to bother with flying through the different corridors. He can't afford to get them lost. He's going to simply have to blast through whatever columns of rock impede their way, and somehow manage to keep Loki's head protected against him.

_Focus, Odinson_. He thinks desperately to himself as he hurdles them higher. _You must_.

/

It had been purely chaos.

Thinking back on it, Thor isn't even entirely sure of what had transpired when he'd crested the edge of the broken off cliff.

He remembers noise loud enough to reverberate through his skull and pound into his brain, the acrid stench of something, burning as it invaded his nostrils, a rush of red and black and glowing, burnt orange and yellow eyes, glinting horrible at him from the dark.

Remembers ripping pain, enough to make his dizzy, to make him nauseas, and the thought, over and over and over again to push it away, to keep Loki safe.

Keep his little brother alive.

Remembers the shuddering impact through his frame as the head of Mjolnir met each thick column of stone. Remembers holding Loki's head securely against his chest, his arm wrapped with maddening strength beneath his shoulders, pulling the smaller god against him with all he had, the wretched hissing of the serpent, following behind with ungodly speed.

He does not recall when that stopped. When he could no longer hear the things body crashing through rock behind him, sliding like metal against metal, grinding and awful.

Only recalls the sudden burst of sun, blinding bright against his eyes, and the rush of fresh, warmed air against his skin, whipping past and through his hair.

Remembers the pain finally reaching him, overwhelming.

After that, it is only darkness.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

He had woken in his own chambers, lain comfortably along his own bed, his own sheets and blankets and pillows.

He hadn't understood, at first. Hadn't known if it was real.

He'd thought he was dreaming, or that perhaps he was dying, and what he saw surrounding him was some delusion the Valkries had given to usher him from the physical world into Valhalla.

But then, suddenly, Father had been there, by his side, telling him to be still, telling him all was well.

When his mind had cleared at last, Thor remembers the sudden panic descending, the way he'd shot up to sitting, only then realizing his legs to be fully healed, wearing nothing more than a nightgown.

It hadn't mattered.

He thought only of his brother, asking frantically after him, eyes wide and heart pounding against his ribs.

Father had told him Loki was alive, but very ill. That he was in the healing halls, with Eir and Mother.

He'd told Thor they'd been found not more than a few hundred meters from where they'd entered the cave system, crashed and unconscious against the hard packed ground. Told Thor, unreasonably, impossibly, that it had been only half a day the two of them had spent in that Norns forsaken Hel hole, that Odin and a group of his guard had come the moment Heimdall had sent word of their position.

Told Thor, any longer, and Loki would likely not have survived.

Told Thor he'd saved his brother's life.

Thor could only think of manipulating Loki into coming.

And no one said anything of Loki saving his.

He'd demanded then to be brought to his brother's side, and he'd been allowed.

It is where he's spent the last, six days, sitting beside Loki, grasping his limp and cold hand between his own, Mother across the other side.

And it all feels too familiar to Thor.

Too many days spent here in these halls, at Loki's side. His brother some terrible reminder of frailty in a world of beings who know naught of such things.

Eir had explained to him that Loki was in a coma, and that the serpent's venom had sat so long in his blood, it would take days yet before it could be fully filtered out.

She said he would live, only in the early days, she hadn't been certain of the damage done to him.

When she'd spoken of in cautious tones the possibility of damage to his brother's mind, Thor had broken down into sobs, and Mother had had to hold him like a child, consoling and reassuring that all would be well, even as he felt her tremble in turn, her voice strained against her own tears.

Thor hadn't been able to cope with the thought of Loki's mind, his bright, quicksilver, brilliant mind, being taken away from him. He'd thought, truly, Loki himself would rather have died than to lose that part of himself.

Three days following he had spent like that, in agonized uncertainty, until, at last, Eir had declared with rushed relief Loki's condition stabilized, no indication of permanent illness to his mind or body.

She said it would be only a matter of days before he woke then, for the exhaustion of the poison he'd endured to lift away from him at last.

And so Thor sits here, gripping his little brother's hand, watching his face, the shallow rise and fall of his thin chest.

Mother sits across, elegant fingers working fast and studious as she weaves one of her great tapestries, the room silent but for the hushed noise of Loki's breath.

/

It is four days later, Loki at last wakes, with heavy lids coming open, sluggish and fluttering against the light.

Thor is near when he does, only on the other side of the room, speaking with one of Eir's apprentices, charged with keeping the second Prince washed and comfortable.

It is Mother who Loki first sees, and his wavering, cracked voice calling out to her is what alerts Thor to his consciousness.

He turns, seeing Frigga reaching out, stilling Loki against his bare shoulder, her other hand resting against his forehead, murmuring soft words to him, and Thor makes a hurried but polite excuse to the apprentice, the woman simply smiling kindly and nodding before the Prince strides with purpose to his brother's side.

As he reaches them, he sees Loki's hand lifted, grasping weak and trembling to Mother's wrist, the Queen smoothing sweat filled locks back from her youngest son's eyes.

"I am here my darling." She whispers gently, smiling down at him. "It is alright. I am here."

Thor halts, watching a long moment, an unexpected tension working up through his shoulders.

He had foolishly imagined, upon waking, his brother would be, somehow, miraculously, fully well, ready to leave the healing halls and rejoin his side.

Looking at Loki now, though, Thor realizes it will be many days, perhaps weeks even, before Loki is strong enough to even leave the bed.

His eyes are half lidded, even now, glassy and confused as he gazes up at their Mother. Sweat glistening and thick along his still too pale skin, minute but visible tremors working through his thin frame as he does nothing but lie there.

Still, his breathes are shallow and too rapid.

Thor swallows, finally working up the courage to speak.

"Loki." He starts, trying as best he can to keep his usually booming voice soft.

Loki blinks, his reaction times worryingly slow, and for a moment, he doesn't move.

Frigga smiles down at him, continuing to smooth his hair.

"Someone's here to see you my love." She tells him, nodding towards Thor.

And at last, Loki turns his head, his face turned towards his brother, and Thor finds himself gazing into his distant and frightened eyes.

His chest feels compressed by some insurmountable weight then, and with difficulty, he forces himself a step closer, watching as Loki's mouth works, open and closed a few, agonizing seconds before any words come through.

When finally they do, his brother's voice is thin and broken, no louder than the softest of whispers.

"Thor…" he says, and it is only with all his effort Thor keeps from crying as Loki reaches out his other hand for him, thin fingers shaking terribly.

The elder Prince doesn't hesitate, closing the small gap with hast, reaching forward and clasping his brother's smaller hand in his own, squeezing tightly.

"I am here brother." He says, sinking into the vacated chair he had earlier occupied.

Loki stares at him for what seems a long while, saying nothing, and Thor can see unchecked tears gathering in the corners of his brother's eyes, waiting to fall.

"… I thought…" Loki at last starts, slow and ragged, his normally silk smooth tone cracked apart. "us… dying."

It is a labor for him to speak, Thor can tell, and he squeezes Loki's hand more firm, bending forward and pressing his lips to the younger god's exposed knuckles.

He shakes his head.

"Nay, little brother." He says, forcing a smile through his pained heart. "We yet live."

Loki blinks again, and this time, the tears gathered at his eyes corners slip free, sliding languidly across his temples, into his hair.

"… Your… legs…" he starts, and Thor can feel Loki's grip tighten, only weakly, his face creasing in concern.

"They are healed Loki." Thor hastens to reassure, not wanting his brother worrying over him now. "I am well."

He feels another, faint squeeze along his hand, Loki swallowing with difficulty, before he nods only just, another tear slipping from the corner of his eye, tracking down pale skin.

He turns then, back to Mother, still grasping loosely to her wrist.

"H… has… F-Father… come?" He asks, so softly Thor can hardly hear the words.

For a moment, Frigga cannot keep the pained expression from her features as she looks down at her son. But quickly she wipes it away, replaced with a kind smile, her hand moving to cup the side of Loki's face.

"Not as yet, child." She says. "You know how occupied your Father is. But he will be by, soon as he's given a moment from his duties."

Loki looks away from her then, eyes casting away, staring blankly at some indistinct spot along the bedding, before slowly his lids slip closed, and he nods vaguely, saying nothing.

Thor thinks suddenly of how when he'd woken, it had been only a few minutes following Father had shown up, by his side. Had spent time with him to make sure of his well being, and explain to him what had happened.

It strikes him odd then, and leaves an unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach, to realize that in all the days his brother has lain, comatose, in these halls, under the watchful and uncertain eye of Eir, Father has not once come.

Perhaps he thought it unnecessary, then, for Mother's constant presence here, as well as his own.

He tries to push the unpleasant feelings from his mind, focusing instead on the fact his brother has finally woken. That, in time, he will be alright.

"We should leave your brother to rest Thor." He is broken from his distraction by Mother's voice, and when he glances down at Loki again, he sees the younger god's head fallen aside, his breathes steadier and more even with the blanket of sleep upon him, his hand fallen from the Queen's wrist, the other slack now in Thor's hold.

"Aye." He nods, and with as much gentleness as he can manage, lays his brother's hand down at his side, before bending forward and pressing a kiss softly to his brow.

/

It is later, when Thor's thoughts have turned dark with the memory of Loki's own words while the both of them were trapped, down in that pit, and he cannot escape them or their fouling of his mood, he tells Mother about them, and the concern it has left him with.

"He said such terrible things about himself Mother." He says, voice cracking. "I… I worry for him. What if he truly believes himself so low? I understand not how he can lack so in confidence."

Frigga places her hand along Thor's cheek then, smiling sweetly at him, reassuring.

"Oh Thor, you know your brother. You know how easily he can be discouraged."

"But _why_?" Thor asks, almost frantic. "I understand not. He is a son of Odin. Should that not be enough to give him sureness in himself?"

And his Mother's smile wavers, only just then, even as she holds it.

"Loki is not as you are, child." She says softly. "He is of a deeper sense of feeling. Do you understand?"

Thor says nothing, only looking back at her hopelessly, lost and confused and afraid.

She runs her thumb gently along his sun kissed skin, her own eyes bright.

"Think not on it, my love." She tells him. "It was only the anxiety of injury and fear which caused your brother to speak so. He will be alright."

Only it is a placation, Thor thinks, even as he nods back at her, Loki's words echoing back through his mind.

He worries for his brother. His little brother. And wonders how he could ever think himself anything less than the burning bright miracle that he is.

He wonders, and finds no answer to grasp.

**The End**

/

**AN: A huge thank you to everyone who's stuck with me through this story. I hope you enjoyed it all the way through, and I'd love to hear your final thoughts on it if you have a chance. Thanks so much again!**


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